Shenanigans
by kaorismash
Summary: The Regulars have some downtime at the beach. Kind of. Crack.


Better to read this one at my LJ: ka0richan(dot)livejournal(dot)com/66259(dot)html#cutid1

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**Title:** Shenanigans  
**Summary:** The Regulars have some downtime at the beach. Kind of. Crack.

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"It pinched me!" Ryoma has his finger in his mouth, tongue soothing over the sore, tender skin as he glares at the crab scurrying hurriedly away. His can of Ponta is leaking onto a mound of sand, turning the grains a crystalline purple.

Tezuka glances up from his book with amusement. "Did it?" he asks mildly. He hadn't actually been reading a single word, but watching the entire time as Ryoma taunted the crab with sand, pokes, shells and anything within reaching distance. It was his own fault really, for being so careless.

Ryoma scowls, because it sounds as if Tezuka is only humoring him. "Yes!" He directs the glare at his reddening finger from where it'd been caught between the pincers. It's throbbing, a lot. He remembers the Ponta and twists around to see if he can salvage what's left of—

He yelps when he feels a pain in his side. The scowl is redirected to the brunet. Tezuka just _pinched_ him.

"Buchou," he says, surprised and with a slight sulk. His eyes narrow gradually.

"Yes?" Tezuka raises a brow and lowers the book he's pretending to read. Ryoma stares at him flatly. Tezuka mirrors the look.

There is a long moment of silence that drowns out the ambience of childish screams and crashing waves. Ryoma lowers one brow and his lips stretch into a fierce frown. "Nothing."

Tezuka, with a brief whisper of a smile on his lips, looks back down at his book.

Ryoma, not seething, and definitely _not_ sulking, turns his head away from the older boy. He glowers instead.

He hears a faint chuckling that has him turning to face Tezuka with slitted eyes. Tezuka is still reading his book, in fact, he's innocently turning to the next page, hand carefully smoothing the thin parchment down as his eyes move up and down between the lines.

Tezuka actually seems focused on his reading. Ryoma looks unconvinced.

Ryoma's hand darts out and pinches Tezuka in the side. He doesn't stop. It's revenge after all.

Tezuka yelps, and moves away to the edge of his towel. "Ryoma!" There's a strong expression of disapproval on his face.

Ryoma smirks as he pushes up onto his knees. He delivers several more nips through the shirt.

Tezuka jerks away from the cool hands, dropping his precious history book in the process. He tries to catch the smaller hands with his own, but Ryoma's no longer on his towel and his hands are annoyingly agile.

Ryoma lunges and pins Tezuka down as best he can. He resumes with his attack, hands sliding underneath the shirt, running over sensitive sides and smooth, taut skin where he knows the older boy is ticklish.

Tezuka writhes underneath him and grunts at every random burst of stinging pain. He's too proud to make a real noise but too dignified to let anyone keep him in such a position. He's not above resorting to desperate measures.

Tezuka takes a handful of white, flowing sand and throws it at Ryoma.

Sound of outrage and a multitude of curses flow from Ryoma's mouth just as a cloud of sand bursts in his face. His reaction's fast enough that he manages to close his eyes just before the tiny specs could blind him momentarily, but it's not enough to keep the grains out of his mouth. He makes a face at the taste.

Tezuka seizes the chance to push Ryoma off, stand up, and hurriedly head the other way, far away from the currently incapacitated boy.

A few hacking coughs later and a good deal of wiping furiously at the grains in his lashes and hair, Ryoma deems it safe to open his eyes.

Tezuka's by now calf-deep in the water.

Ryoma growls and leaps off the towel and chases Tezuka. It's a matter of seconds before Ryoma's tackling Tezuka from behind.

They fall into the water with a violent splash.

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Far, far away from the shore (that is, just a few meters from Tezuka's and Ryoma's towel) are the rest of the senior Regulars.

"What are they doing, do you think," Fuji muses with squinted eyes and brows high up under his fringe. He takes an absentminded sip from his tropical drink.

Inui, to his left, ignores his question and doesn't stop taking notes. He _can't_ stop, because every microsecond he looks away from the data presented he'll _miss something_; like Tezuka's capacity to move in water freely or hindered with Echizen hanging off his back or how long he seemed to be able to breathe underwater or how his hair managed to flick out at the improbable one-hundred-and-thirty-something degree angle from the normal despite having droplets of water dragging down the—

"I—that—we should—" Oishi looks like he's swallowed a really big fish, completely mortified and experiencing trouble getting oxygen into his lungs. "—something—_anything!_"

"Wah!" Kikumaru slings his arm around his partner's neck, unconcerned when the other chokes on his hard-earned breath, and beams brightly. "Looks like Ochibi's trying to drown Tezuka-buchou!"

And Oishi suddenly wants to go out there and _stop_ whatever it is they're doing but he _can't_ because it's Tezuka and it's simply bad form for the mere vice-captain to tell off the _captain_ and who in the world would ever dare to tell Tezuka off for—

A half-strangled noise leaves his throat when Kikumaru tightens his hold and all about drapes himself across his back.

"WHOO! GO OCHIBI~!" Kikumaru cheers, pumping his fist into the air. He has one arm resting comfortably on Oishi's head as he continues to yell encouragements. His antics quickly attract the attention of just about everyone on the beach.

Fuji laughs. "Looks like they're having fun," he answers his own question-that-wasn't-really-a-question. "Ne, Inui?"

Inui mutters something about laps and whys and how Tezuka and Ryoma are just so _illogical_.

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And if anyone's wondering about the other two regulars:

Kikumaru's loud enough that he wakes up one previously knocked-out-by-the-Super-Redux-Love-Juic

e-Version-II (though why there's a second version is anyone's guess) Kaidoh. His tongue feels leathery and thick. It's still coated with residue from that disgusting taste of _oil_, because there was no way in hell that inky black thing wasn't.

His eyes snap open. He can't move the rest of his body. He feels like he's in a cocoon, a stiflingly hot cocoon that's itching and aggravating just about every inch of exposed skin. That or he's buried in the sand, because he's at the beach, and the beach is always abundant in sand and morons.

One such moron is in the process of burying Kaidoh alive.

Kaidoh hisses furiously and a muscled arm shoots up from under the sand to grip his teammate by his collar and drag him down so they're face to face. Momoshiro splutters and laughs and suddenly there's another enthusiastic yell from Kikumaru that directs their attention to the shoreline where Echizen's clambering back onto Tezuka-buchou's back and smothering seaweed into his hair.

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Others that are not there:

Kawamura is busy training to become a BURNING HOT SUSHI CHEF COME OOOON!!!

Ryuuzaki must Never Be Mentioned when At The Beach. :|


End file.
